


through me to you

by stuckinafernbush



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Character Study, Crying, Depression, F/F, Songfic, Teen Pregnancy, Unrequited Crush, i think?? idk what counts as a character study sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25268953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinafernbush/pseuds/stuckinafernbush
Summary: She takes a few steps, purposeless and still a little imprecise, towards the sink. She grips the edge of the counter top and stares, directly ahead, directly into her own eyes. The mirror would be a bit shorter than her if she stood on the counter, but as it is, with Lysithea's feet on the ground as firmly as she can get them, there's a significant gap between the top of her head and the top of the mirror. She leans forward. Her hair is unbrushed, but otherwise fine. She had showered...recently. She isn't sure when, but it was maybe yesterday, at some point. That would make sense, probably. She showered and then slept at some point after that, woke up and now stands here. Not that it matters. Even if she hadn't showered in a week, nobody was looking at her but her reflection. Who's judging her?(Inspired by "through me to you" by Ferry ft. GUMI, but you don't need to listen to the song to understand the fic.)
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	through me to you

_Did you know? Have you heard?_

_No. I haven't._

Lysithea stares. Time is so fluid, always whirling, carrying everyone everywhere, forcing you to go wherever it sees fit. Time propels Lysithea towards deadlines for assignments, towards the tests and exams she'd been studying so hard for, towards fleeting high school friendships that she had never really invested herself in. Well, time used to be like that.

It stopped.

Lysithea stares, up, from the Lysithea-shaped impression on her mattress. She blinks sometimes, when she remembers she can do that to help her dry eyes. Time had stopped, as far as she was concerned. Hours were just meaningless numbers, picked arbitrarily to denote something she didn't care for. Lysithea wouldn't go so far as to say time was night and day, more so dark and light than anything. Mostly dark. Lysithea was only aware it was winter from the chill that sometimes begged her beneath a blanket, the frequent darkness, and some faint memory from the end of school.

School was all she had ever really dedicated herself to. It was what mattered. The pursuit of knowledge was her brightest passion, and since school had ended it became apparent that it was so blinding because it had no substantial rivals. She could study. She could still study. She still had exams, however many months from now. Months, too, had become little more than a word. She had exams, and she wanted to pass them, with higher marks than anyone else in her class. Everyone who knew her would probably agree that she could pass even if she sat them now - she really didn't need to study quite as hard as she did, given her natural aptitude for learning. If they saw her as she lay there, they might feel a little differently, but alone in her room away from any judging eyes Lysithea could rest knowing she was still regarded as one of the most intelligent students at her school.

She was so smart. She was always early with any homework, and was capable of anything she put her mind to. She knew _everything_.

So why was she so clueless? So out of the loop? Her knowledge wasn't limitless. It was confined to paperbacks, restricted to anything printed in Palatino that had been recommended or distributed by her teachers. Physics was simple, especially so when compared to keeping up with the lives of those around her.   
She pretended she didn't know why. She pretended it was okay to feel confused when she finally heard rumours which were popular three months ago. Someone would mention it so casually, and Lysithea would question it. Then the whole group would look at her like she'd spat something hateful, complete with an all too long silence. She'd get the explanation, but she would always feel so _childish_ for needing it explained, as if asking for advice on using a knife and fork properly.

But it was her own fault she didn't know in the first place. She wasn't sure about the exact process, but it could be remedied fairly easily with one key component: friends. Lysithea wasn't hated by any stretch, but she certainly wasn't popular. She could hold a conversation. Usually if it was about school, but there were other things too. Of course there were. She wasn't incompetent.   
Still, she had never gotten close to anyone before school closed. Everyone else was probably shrugging it all off, spending time together. There were probably parties that she didn't know about and wasn't going to be invited to. Maybe they'd already happened. She never got invited to parties, not that she'd care much to go. There was one, once. She had turned it down. Sometimes she thought about it, and wondered if she regretted it. It really didn't seem like her thing, but maybe it would've been nice to show up for a bit and make the decision after seeing what it was really like.  
If there was one tonight, there would have been a 0% chance of her going to it regardless of who asked. Who would even ask? People host parties for people that they're friends with. Lysithea does, technically, have friends, yet none close enough for that kind of thing. But then, don't some people just let anyone in? People they barely know? It happened in fiction, but there might be real basis for it. Maybe she never got invited because it sped up the process. If they knew she would say no, why ask?

Do people gossip at parties? Is that why everyone else knows? ...Does it matter? The information isn't really so valuable, most of the time. Is it?

_Did you know she asked her out?_

_Has anyone told you about him sending_ _her his nudes?_

_Have you heard that she's pregnant now?_

Did you hear that they found her body?

Lysithea stares. She didn't know the girl. They were never friends. She could barely remember her name. Isn't that horrible? She can't even honour the memory of a girl who was killed by someone she knew. Someone she looked up to. She could've been the one to die. That's selfish, she knows, and she thinks it every time she goes through what happened again. That girl that she can't remember the face of, with the last name she had forgotten how to pronounce. Killed. By a teacher. She had been missing for about a week, maybe? Then they found her. Long dead, at the hands of a teacher Lysithea had once respected so much. School stayed open until the end of the week, then closed at the end of the day on Friday.

And Lysithea didn't even know why. She knew it was going to close. Everyone was talking about it, just not why it was happening. They were so excited about it. She was weird for liking school so much, yes, she'd heard it again and again and again. Everyone else wanted any opportunity to get out of there, and she wanted any opportunity to stay in. It's not normal, whatever.

She gave in. Lysithea hated asking for help. There's nothing wrong with it, she knows that, but she feels so _stupid_ for having to ever do it. But she gave in, and asked Hilda. She needed to know what was happening. Hilda was one of the people closest to being a friend. Kind, funny and she was popular with just about the whole school. Was. When Lysithea asked, it was possible she was asking on Hilda's last day. She had lost all of her status and was on the verge of expulsion; it hadn't quite been decided, but she got the deadline for the results extended, thanks to that girl going missing. (Whenever she thinks of it like that, Lysithea is acutely aware of how cruel she really sounds; so uncaring about others that it's no wonder she had nobody to talk to.) When the school reopened, Hilda would either be there, to continue on like normal (although, perhaps with less friends) or she would be gone, never allowed to come back.

Not that many people would probably want her there. Lysithea had noticed that she was alone more and more frequently, when she had once been surrounded by people at every point in the day. She was alone eating lunch at one of the tables in the library when Lysithea had found her on the last day - it felt so wrong to see. For starters, Hilda never studied. She never really seemed to be one for even a little silence, either, but Lysithea had supposed even she needed time to herself. Lysithea sat opposite her and whispered the question. Hilda gave a small smile. Fake wasn't quite the word for it, but it wasn't exactly her most genuine. Hilda had a fake smile that she'd perfected, for whenever she wanted others to do things for her, and it was pretty believable if you never bothered to look for the difference. The smile itself wasn't really the problem, though. If you took a picture of her then and cropped it to be only her mouth, anyone who didn't know better would assume that it belonged to someone who was doing pretty well. Lysithea never meant to stare, but it was an expression that seemed foreign on Hilda's face. She pretended that it didn't matter and just listened to Hilda whisper back an answer, at a volume just barely acceptable. 

It's not really the kind of thing you want to find out on a Friday afternoon, least not when surrounded by cheerful people who had nearly forgotten it by that point. Hilda didn't make eye contact as Lysithea processed it, maybe feeling guilty for saying it as casually as she had, or maybe for saying anything at all. When the shock died down a little, she almost left without asking how Hilda was. A part of her wished she had. 

"Are you okay, by the way? It looks like people have been avoiding you lately." It wasn't really as composed as she would've liked, but she remembered the wording.

Hilda looked up at Lysithea for a moment, then looked away again. "Oh, yeah," she had said, cheerful as she normally would be. "It's- before everything else happened, they were considering expelling me. They still might, they never actually decided." She laughed a little at Lysithea's wide eyes, but after a second turned to fidget with her sleeves. "Today might be my last day. Or I might be back when everyone else is, and it'll all be fine."

"But- why?"

She had hoped she'd get a little more eye contact, but Hilda just focused even harder on pinching at her sleeves. "It's, well-" she let out a tiny, wry laugh, "I'm pregnant." She stopped fidgeting, and now had both arms resting on the desk, which she looked at as intently as someone who had never seen birch before.

"Oh." That was it. That was the only response she got. Not a very strong reaction - no congratulations, but no disgusted glare either. Something completely neutral and uninteresting. And before either of them could find any words to continue a conversation, the bell rang and Hilda left for her next class. Lysithea remembers letting out the weakest "wait" when she stood up, but it was drowned out completely by the bell. It's possible she never said anything at all. She could've imagined that part, hoped it was what happened. Or maybe she only mouthed the word, and it never let itself be forced out her mouth.

She groans every time she remembers it. "Oh." That was it. That was all she said. Why? Why could she not find any words? There had been enough time between the last thing Hilda had ever heard her say and the bell ringing for her to at least start saying something. Time didn't feel like it was moving anything forward then, either.

Lysithea groans again, and finally moves. She rolls onto her front, and after what's probably only a few seconds, she pushes herself to her feet. She rests her hand on her bed - her legs don't feel as stable as she'd like them to, and a fuzzy black is slowly obscuring her vision, creeping in from her peripherals. But, it passes. Like everything else. Everything just happens, until it doesn't. It's something so unmemorable, except the first time it happens. Even then, when it becomes a regular occurrence, you forget about there ever being a first time. It's no longer worth noting.

She finds it in herself to open her door. The hall light isn't on, and the window isn't doing much to let in sunlight anymore. It's definitely night of some description. Her parents either aren't home or they're asleep, and Lysithea doesn't really care which it is. Her room's close enough to the bathroom that she doesn't bother turning a light on for the few steps it'll take. If she's scared on the way back her phone's in her pocket. It's fine.

The bathroom light flickers on and she locks the door behind her. It's dim - they've been meaning to replace the bulb for a while but never did get around to it. Lysithea leans against the door and wonders why she even bothered leaving her room in the first place. It's a change of scenery, if nothing else, but it's hardly a breath-taking sight. It's good to stretch every now and then, but it was hardly a long walk. She could've at least went to the kitchen to raid for whatever sweets they had lying around, but she wasn't in the mood for a snack.

She takes a few steps, completely purposeless and still a little imprecise, towards the sink. She grips the edge of the countertop and stares, directly ahead, directly into her own eyes. The mirror would be a bit shorter than her if she stood on the counter, but that would be such a silly thing to do. As it is, with Lysithea's feet on the ground as firmly as she can get them, there's a significant gap between the top of her head and the top of the mirror. She leans forward. Her hair is unbrushed, but otherwise fine. She had showered...recently. She isn't sure when, but it was maybe yesterday, at some point. That would make sense, probably. She showered and then slept at some point after that, woke up and now stands here. Not that it matters much. Even if she hadn't showered in a week, nobody was looking at her but her reflection. Who's judging her?

Would Hilda judge her? The older girl comes to mind again. Had she ever left? It felt like Hilda was the only thing Lysithea ever thought about anymore. "Oh." Only Hilda, and her own stupidity. If you're so smart, Lysithea, why can't you form a sentence? You had at least thirty seconds, probably, to think of something. Anything. Even something stupid would've been fine. She knows she'd still be mad at herself if she _had_ said something stupid, but-

Lysithea moves her hands, watching her reflection carefully, to a pimple just above her lip that she's never seen before. It's that sickly yellowish colour that protrudes in such a grossly tempting way. She knows it's better to just leave it, but after a few failed attempts she bursts it. It's not as satisfying as she'd hoped. She washes her hands and fixates on the red mark she's left. It had looked like it would be easy, but she rarely could tell. She'd never had a particularly complex skin care routine, but it had always worked well enough. She'd kind of gotten out of it at some point in the past...two weeks? That maybe sounds like a decent time frame. Sure. The past two weeks. She washes her face, still, and rarely anything more. Her skin isn't too bad without it, though she already had a couple of red marks littering her forehead, and one on her chin, almost directly below the new one. Not that anyone could ever tell if her forehead was pimply, since her bangs covered it. Still, she had kept some sort of habit of moving her bangs when she passed a mirror, just to check.

She's still thinking about Hilda. From what she could tell, Hilda always had perfectly clear skin. Although, she was good at makeup, so she could cover up anything she had to. What wasn't she good at? It was no wonder she was popular. Lysithea was about average at best in anything she couldn't study. Hilda was so kind to almost everyone, including Lysithea. Even with people she wasn't on great terms with, she seemed to be nice instead of stirring up any drama.

It wasn't as if she had chosen Lysithea. She was just another girl at school. There were a lot of people she was closer with. Still, unlike a lot of other people, she would approach Lysithea for reasons other than help with schoolwork. Not often, but they had had a few normal conversations. Hilda had definitely had that with everyone. In fact, Lysithea was certain she was among one of the people Hilda had spoken to the least. She didn't blame her for it or anything like that - it's just how it was. Hilda probably barely even remembered that those conversations had happened, or what they had talked about. Cute stories about their pets. Silly ideas for fictional holidays that Lysithea had initially been a little reluctant to indulge in. Idle chat about what kinds of flowers they liked. (Hilda had said she loved windflowers, because they were so delicate. Lysithea had looked it up later: they were representative of life, death and anticipation. At the time it seemed so dramatic, making it a little more endearing that Hilda liked them so much. Recalling that conversation recently made her feel so strangely light, as if none of her had ever existed. It seemed she was more dramatic than any of the flower sites had ever been.) Simple things, really. Forgettable.

Lysithea opens her mouth, twitches her top lip up to expose her teeth. They aren't great. They're white enough, but they're crooked. Her canines protrude out in front of the rest, too, and she faintly recalls when someone had compared them to a dragon before they had fully grown in. She was supposed to get braces, and her parents still press her about it sometimes, but she's not bothered enough by it to justify getting them. She isn't particularly conscious about her smile, and they haven't caused any of the problems she's been told they could. She looked it up, once, and decided it would be fine to leave them as they are.

Hilda's smile had always been so very perfect. A white that almost hurt to look at, and teeth that surely couldn't have been so straight naturally. Lysithea wasn't jealous of it, but she had always been captivated by it. Hilda's lips were never chapped, either, always looking soft and always decorated with lipgloss of some sort. Lysithea had thought about asking what brand it was, but never found the courage. Such a simple question, unable to be voiced. It was somehow embarrassing, because they weren't close enough for that, and because Lysithea didn't even wear makeup unless someone else applied it for her.

Lysithea doesn't bring herself to think about kissing Hilda. Sometimes she can manage, but this time it's one thought that's over with a blink to realise she doesn't feel right trying. She can't remember when she realised she even wanted to in the first place, but it was a while ago. She had hoped it would pass quickly, but she's still fantasising about mundane things couples might do, inserting herself and Hilda into any scenario. They're never long fantasies, because as soon as she catches herself in one, she wants to fade away out of sight of everyone around her. Even alone, she feels so judged for thinking about it. Her chances were, realistically, zero. They always had been. Hilda was so likeable that this feeling was just another statistic - what percentage of people at their school would say they had a crush on her? If Hilda wanted someone she could probably get them. She wouldn't pick Lysithea, and it was understandable. She had come to terms with it as soon as she first felt anything for her, or not long after.

If they were zero before, her chances could be even lower now. She's pregnant. Presumably, she doesn't have a boyfriend, based on the general reaction everyone had to finding out... but it's not like it just happened. She probably doesn't like girls like that, so it's pointless, but the feeling still won't go away. Lysithea doesn't know how to force it away, though she hasn't tried very hard to find any such method, so she allows the hindrance to stay and bug her for as long as it wants to.

Maybe she should message Hilda.

Her phone's in her pocket, and while Lysithea isn't very active on any social media, she does have them. Mostly to talk to people who are begging her to help with their schoolwork, but she's been messaged by Hilda before too. Actually, that was also about schoolwork, but they had a brief conversation about their favourite music artists after it since Hilda mentioned listening to music when she did homework. (She liked female rappers mostly, but seemed open to just about any genre. Lysithea had recommended her her favourite indie pop song at the time, and Hilda replied a few minutes after to say she liked it. It was probably unrealistic to assume she had listened to it again afterwards.) Lysithea reaches into her pocket and wraps her hand around her phone, hesitating. She could message Hilda right now.

That would be stupid, Lysithea, why would you do that? You hate messaging people, and Hilda probably hates you. "Oh." Not exactly the most encouraging reaction. She won't want to talk. How would you even start that conversation? What would the conversation even be about? What's the plan, Lysithea, to tell her you're sorry it sounded like you hated her, you didn't mean it? It had been such a disappointing sound. A sound that so clearly seemed to express disapproval of her actions. Reaching out to Hilda can't end with whatever she's expecting it to, somewhere within her. It's unrealistic and not the kind of scenario she should spend her night dwelling on. 

...She's probably going to dwell on it. Because maybe she _could_ fix things. Maybe she could fix everything. Maybe she's the only one who could change this, change everything, reach out and make a difference. She never will. She never will change anything, but maybe if she had the confidence or the initiative she could have changed this, or any number of things before or after. Maybe she could've made an impact.

Even just a little. Even just a small contribution. If she talks to Hilda and Hilda is the one to make a difference, that would be fine. Lysithea can't bring herself to even take her phone out of her pocket. When she grabs it it just feels stuck and her heart feels so fast and so light that she thinks she'd be better not having one. It's almost not present at all, but beats just hard enough to remind her she's still standing with her own eyes looking back at her. Her legs are shaking a little. She's so unbalanced at the excitement of her fantasy, of instantly coming to understand Hilda and having Hilda instantly understand her. The excitement of the two being able to fix each other, because in Lysithea's mind she's already twenty and doing everything with and for her best friend, who she maybe lives with and helps in raising her child. Lysithea isn't twenty. Lysithea doesn't even really want to be twenty. If anything she wishes she were younger and able to live carelessly, free. Somewhere she knows that's true, and somewhere she knows she won't be content with the future she'll have. Would she be content to have a future like that instead, with Hilda? Where they can do everything together, be everything together, and maybe be better?

It's stupid, she's aware, considering how distant Hilda is now. She's a person. She exists outside of Lysithea's mind, breathing, what's she doing right now? Sleeping, maybe, but Lysithea still doesn't know what time it is, and doesn't care to check. Or maybe Hilda's lying awake, apathetic or crying, wishing she hadn't gotten herself into the situation she has. Or maybe she's determined to get through this - she doesn't want anyone's help, and especially not Lysithea's. Hilda always was stronger than she let on, so if she really wanted to she could surely do this with minimal support. Though the response she had gotten from just about everyone at school probably wouldn't be helping her. What if she really would want Lysithea's help? No, why would it be her, over any of the people Hilda had actually been close to? They weren't friends. Lysithea wasn't Hilda's friend. Hilda just liked people. She was extroverted, sociable. Something like that. She'd talk to anyone and it'd be enough for her. Lysithea doesn't have anything to do with Hilda or the situation she's in. It's not about her. Hilda has to be going through so much; Lysithea's just wasting her time standing in a dim bathroom.

Right. Hilda and Lysithea are completely separate and it's fine that way. Good, even. Hilda's going to live her life without Lysithea in it and she'll do just fine. Lysithea's going to stand in her bathroom for another hour or however long it's been and she's probably going to cry about it, but for now she's just blank. In her mind she's telling herself everything she already knows: she's being stupid and immature and she's never going to do any of the things she wants to, she's so spineless and so foolish that she wants to dig her nails into her palms until there's a little speck of red on her ghastly skin. She wishes she had someone else to tell her these things, to let her break and sob and realise it's all true. Hilda can't give her that affirmation. Hilda won't remind her she's stupid when she needs to hear that, she'd call her smart no matter what and maybe her soft hands would reach Lysithea's face and touch her so gently. Hilda can't fix Lysithea. She's too nice for it. And Lysithea can't fix Hilda, because she's not nice enough, probably. She can't care about other people when she should, even now. Even when Hilda's surely cried over the child she couldn't have asked for and Lysithea's just bored without the one thing she had keeping her together.

Lysithea isn't getting worse though. It's bad, and it's fine that way. It's fine to stay at the bottom, to stay flat without picking up. It can't go down. That's good, right? That's its own small victory. She can work with this. She's staring at herself again, though she's been in her head so often that she doesn't know if she ever stopped. She blinks and her expression falters. She'd stayed so neutral, so far from herself. Her reflection looks... sad. Lysithea wants to slap the girl standing in front of her, because she has nothing to be so upset about. Nothing even happened, and nothing is going to happen. She looks so _weak_ , so pitiable. The picture of that girl in front of her is so blurry now, and she's squinting back with a red face. She shouldn't care, Lysithea, why do you care?

Changing anything now will just make it worse. It's not worth the risk. It's comfortable here. It's comfortable, with a wet face and shaking hands, and legs that feel so weightless they could snap if she didn't watch her step. Her head feels like it's shaking from inside - it doesn't hurt, but she isn't able to focus clearly on anything. She only knows where she is because she can feel it, feel the edge of the sink, but she wouldn't be able to tell otherwise. She can tell she's making some sort of noise as she cries, but it doesn't feel like herself. No, she can hear only as if she were listening in from outside the door. She's not sure if what she's doing can be considered breathing at this point, with how much energy it takes to inhale just once. Gasping is a closer description. She lowers herself to the ground, hands still clutching the counter. Her knees are against the cool tiles, and she doesn't see anything when she looks down at them.

She tries to breathe.

It doesn't feel like it's working, but since she's still alive she supposes she must be doing it well enough.

Her eyes hurt. Rubbing them will just make it worse, and she knows it will, but her finger swipes at them anyways. With a sniff, Lysithea realises how much she doesn't want to look at her gross face right now. She waits, a minute or so, to get clear. Her head, her heart, her hands, her legs, she gives them that minute to fix themselves before she pulls herself up. She catches a glance in the mirror, and pretends she didn't, but not one part of her face is dry and her neck is pretty damp itself. She washes her face. Sighs. She wants to ask herself _why?_ but isn't sure what the question means, nor how to answer.

She's at a good point now. She's done. Lysithea has nothing to say, not to herself, or Hilda, or anyone. She has no words to force. She's going to leave.

She turns, but doesn't start walking. Sure, the crying's stopped, but it doesn't even feel like it happened. She knows it did, she had just lived it. But she's back to that sort of apathy, that bland expression as if nothing had happened at all. As if she hadn't spent the past hour - or two, or half hour or however long it was - feeling so useless. She was going to go back to her room and probably not exit for another twelve hours, and she was going to pretend this hadn't happened at all. She would remember it, and at some point a year from now she expected she'd think about how weird it was that this had ever happened, but it might as well have been a dream. It might as well have been another fantasy that she hated.

Just go back.

She gets halfway. She looks back over at her shoulder, at the girl she's leaving behind. The mirror Lysithea is her own separate entity. Lysithea hadn't thought any of that. Lysithea hadn't thought anything about Hilda. That girl in the mirror had.

What a weird kid. She's weird, Lysithea decided, for all those things she thought. For wanting to reach out. For caring so much. Anyone would be right to laugh at that kind of thing. That girl who likes that other girl so much, that other girl who was so sad at her for being so uncaring. That other girl who would never reach out to her, because she was afraid she'd get another disapproving response, or because she didn't need her help, or because if she wanted to reach out to someone there were so many better options for her. 

Lysithea unlocks the door. What if she... that other girl really had thought about reaching out to her? It's just a 'what if' and nothing more, because she never would do that.

She steps out, and unsurprisingly it's still dark. She probably would've already noticed if it wasn't, but while she waits for her eyes to adjust she can't help making a mental comment about the obvious. Her footsteps aren't particularly loud, but in what would otherwise be silence they're so very pronounced.

She doesn't look back, but, one last time, she wonders.

Wherever she is. _Maybe_ , she thinks, for a final, selfish moment. Maybe that other girl would like to hear her.

Maybe, Hilda would understand.

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to be an m/f fic and i wasnt even sure if it would be for fe3h but. i just got really attached to the idea of it being lys/hilda when i was thinking of the plot for it. i really like songfics but i feel like a lot of them rely too heavily on the lyrics of the song theyre based off of and just insert the whole song into it when really if you're going to quote the lyrics it should only be for super important parts. i also really like unrequited love where it never turns out good. i know a lot of fics have it turn out to be requited because it makes for better plot but sometimes it's fun to have it stay one-sided  
> also i accidentally projected onto lysithea here oops (not the super negative stuff just some weird quirks ig)
> 
> also also i have an idea for a probably much longer songfic that i started writing a few months ago but lost motivation for, so if you liked this and want some pining dimilix feel free to bug me about it lmao


End file.
